I'm in a strip club that reminds me of a crack house from the 80's.
yeah...it smells like an asshole would smell if someone ate sewage.
I'm too hungover for some lady to talk to me about potatoes
you came back at 4am in a suit jacket and a half eaten burrito...
I just found a pubic hair on my dick that wasn't mine.
holy fuck man...it feels like I got beat the fuck out of by death's baseball bat...chimichangas?
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
Unintentional and slightly frustrating adventures are basically all I'm good for. Expect heart palpitations, cheap food, and homeless men serenading us.
Apparently I'm short enough to sit on his lap and fuck him while he is driving because the cop didn't notice.
Well at least I still have a burrito in my pocket.
Right as the plane left the gate the brownies kicked in. I dont think the guy next to me appreciated my engine noises as we took off
Also my face is like def lowkey made of silly putty
I am luring the porn star to my house with chicken!
He spent three years trying to get a chance with me and finally broke me down. then he came in two minutes and was so upset he locked himself in the bathroom so I helped myself to his weed and left. Wanna get stoned?
Who the hell tries to steal eggnog.
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